Back To Fucked Up: Jewel

Jessica pulled the bathrobe tight around herself, like a straitjacket. Her heart was pounding in her chest, transmitting a drumbeat up to the hot blood in her temples. She knew what was going to happen—or at least, what she hoped would happen—and it frightened her as much as it thrilled her. It also embarrassed her a little, but she had learned to love that. Learned to admit she loved it.

“We can’t answer the phone like a surly teenager whose cigarettes got confiscated, Jessica,” Trish said, firmly but mannered, like Jessica had called into her show for advice instead of receiving it gratis. “Imagine if I had been a prospective client. Or even a repeat customer. I know most people that come to you are desperate, nowhere else to turn, but for those with options, let’s at least try to make you a viable alternative to the forty other detective agencies in town?”

She was naked, she was wearing a strap-on whose harness was hardly a concession to modesty, but despite the fact that Jessica’s bathrobe covered her from head to toe, she didn’t feel at all more empowered than Trish. She felt enslaved to the mere sight of the blonde. 

Jessica wanted to fall down on her knees and worship. She wanted to kiss Trish’s foot, but Trish was wearing high heels. She didn’t need that dominatrix touch to enrapture Jessica, but she wasn’t adverse to using overkill when it came to tormenting her willing bitch.

Jessica put up a little fight. It was cathartic and she knew Trish enjoyed it. It got her in the mood. “I don’t want to wear this,” she fumed. “Can’t I just get naked? You can fuck me, spank me, make me eat your ass…”

Trish laughed. “You’ve begged me to do all that too many times for me to consider those punishments.”

“But Trish, c’mon. You’re triggering me!”

“I am not and don’t joke about that. You’re not triggered, you’re embarrassed. Which is how you should feel after how you acted.”

“I didn’t know it was you!” Jessica protested.

“Then you should’ve checked your caller ID. Enough backtalk. This isn’t a debate. Take the robe off and show me how you look.”

Jessica’s fingers numbly pulled at her belt. She stopped and made one last-ditch effort. “Please, Trish? Let me go rip this thing up and I’ll never do it again. And you can fuck me up the ass. It’s a win-win!”

Trish’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying there’s a time when I can’t fuck you up the ass? Because I gave you the buttplug specifically so that hole of yours is ready for me morning, noon, and night. You haven’t lost it, have you? Taken it out to attend to business and then had it make its way to the dumpster.”

That, of all things, made Jessica blush. “You know I wouldn’t do that, Trish, c’mon.”

Trish smirked. “So you can accept wearing a buttplug but not dressing like the Avengers? Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?”

Jessica nearly whimpered. “I said I’d be good,” she keened lowly.

“Oh, you certainly will.” Trish gave her a big smile. “Jessica—this looks like a job for Jewel!”

Jessica bit her lip. There was nothing more she could do. She opened her robe and let it fall off her shoulders. Underneath, she wore a pure white leotard, no shoulders, more of a tube top mixed with footie pajamas. Blue trim at the waist and upper hem. Pink costume jewelry, like an off-center belt buckle, was at her hip. She wore blue gloves and white boots and if Trish wanted her to dye her hair pink, she could fucking flog her, because Jessica wasn’t doing it this side of the heat death of the universe. And it was skintight, which meant it was obvious Jessica wasn’t wearing a bra or panties under it. That, Trish had been explicit about. 

Jessica felt the thin material clinging to every inch of her anatomy, Trish’s eyes close behind, exploring her revealed physique as though she hadn’t seen Jessica naked countless times. 

Jessica felt like stomping one of her spangly white boots. “I wasn’t even that bad!” she whined. “I was rude to you on the phone! I’ve done so much worse than that! Shouldn’t we save the superhero bullshit for when I murder someone?”

“Maybe,” Trish mused, “but I’ve been really eager to punish you this way.”

“No shit,” Jessica said. “How long have you even had this costume?”

“First paycheck from the radio station went to a boutique that specialized in high-end Avengers costumes. Had to pay a mark-up to get a custom job. I thought you could start wearing it once you pulled your head out of your ass and used your powers for good, but apparently you couldn’t do that without me spanking you, so it’s been gathering dust in my closet until now.”

Jessica snickered. “In this fantasy of yours where I join the Avengers, do I get to wear panties?”

Trish only smiled. “Why don’t you turn around and let me see it from behind? You know—like you’re running off to vanquish evil, leaving a member of your adoring public in your wake?”

Jessica growled as she turned. “I’ve saved your life, y’know,” she groused. “Most people would be grateful.”

“I’m special and unique and you look too damn good in that outfit, baby. You wear that around, I’ll be able to tell if you’ve eaten just by how much that fat ass jiggles.”

Trish bit the inside of her cheek to look at Jessica’s spectacular ass, the skintight white suit making it look better than perfect, contrasting deliciously with the dark hair that hung down to the small of her back. It wasn’t so tight, though, that it revealed the buttplug between Jessica’s succulent cheeks. Trish wondered how much tighter it would have to be to show that off. Probably it’d get to the point where it was cutting off Jessica’s circulation. But Jessica was a superhero. How much blood flow did she really need? Medically speaking?

“Arch your back,” Trish ordered. “Stick that big ass out. You do want me to fuck your ass, right?”

Jessica groaned as she followed instructions. The next time she answered the phone, she would be Ms. Goddamn Congeniality.

Trish came up behind her—put her hand on Jessica’s ass and stroked it through the thin covering of her costume. Jessica made a defiant show of ignoring the caress, so Trish slipped her hand between Jessica’s svelte thighs until she felt the heat of her cunt, its wetness through the costume. Jessica was just as hot as Trish was, she realized, and the brunette whimpered as Trish rubbed her right through the tight leotard.

“I think you like wearing the costume, Jessica. You put up a big fuss, but you like looking all nice and pretty for me. My Avenger. My perfect, beautiful superhero.”

“I… I like the way you look at me,” Jessica admitted. “But can’t I wear something a little more dignified for pervert time? Like a Hooters uniform?”

Trish ignored her. “Oh, Jewel, you’re so courageous. How can I ever repay you for saving my life?”

“I have a Ko-fi page,” Jessica quipped.

Trish ignored her some more, all but her body, gently fingering the zipper in back of her leotard and pulling it down. She nuzzled into Jessica’s black hair and the bare back underneath her trickling mane, until she reached the nape of Jessica’s neck and kissed it. 

Jessica shivered, her lips opening, but she managed to hold back the moan she felt. Trish kept peeling the leotard away from the fine layer of sweat on Jessica’s skin, working it down a grateful Jessica’s body until she was kissing Jessica’s bare ass. Jessica stepped out of the shed leotard and as she did, her buttocks quivered, revealing the buttplug stuffed between them.

“Pink,” Trish muttered. “It needs to be pink.” 

Of course, none of Trish’s fantasies could compare to the smell of Jessica’s smoldering pussy, filling the air as if meant to entice her. Trish spread Jessica’s buttocks and licked the valley between them, both above and below the plug. There, she pushed on the buttplug with her tongue and managed to jostle it a little in Jessica’s anus. The brunette cooed and obligingly bent forward. 

Next, Trish spread the lips of her labia, licking up and down them from behind. Jessica’s cream ran down her inner thighs for Trish to lap up. It seemed to taste better, sweeter, like Jessica’s desperation to have Trish satisfy her was in the very juices of her cunt.

Trish picked herself up and walked to the office chair at Jessica’s cliché private eye desk. She sat down in it, wishing a little bit that she had a fedora. She could play the detective and Jessica could play her Gal Friday. Jessica might like being under the desk for a while. 

But she didn’t have the patience to go through the preliminaries again. Torment was for Jessica, not her dom. Trish wrapped a hand around the base of her strap-on, holding it up.

“Here, Jess. Have a seat,” she husked.

Jessica’s eyelids actually fluttered. Shame she had to take the whole costume off for the game to keep going. Maybe Trish could talk her into wearing a wig. And a mask. The boots and gloves, at least. Fuck, do I ever have a fetish.

But then, if she was kinky, Jessica was the one who liked taking ten inches of dildo up her ass. So at least they had something in common.

Jessica backed up onto Trish’s lap, shaking her ass a little as she lowered it down to her mistress. She draped the folds of her cunt over the tip of the strap-on, then impaled herself on it inch by inch. Jessica groaned ecstatically as it entered her. It felt like more than sex. It felt like she was complete.

Trish wrapped her arms around Jessica, feeling out her breasts, kissing and licking the supple muscles of her back. She rocked her hips to knife the dildo up into Jessica’s sizzling pussy.

“Oh God, Trish!” Jessica purred. “The buttplug’s still in me, baby—you’ve got both my holes—you’re fucking me all at once!”

Trish grinned from ear to ear. Jessica spent so many waking hours wrapped in a cocoon of sarcasm and bitterness and cynicism that it was a wonder to see the emotions burst out of her. She pinched Jessica’s stiff nipples, distracting Jessica a little before she ground her strap-on into her sucking, quivering sex. Jessica’s honey ran down the dildo’s length until it anointed Trish’s groin. That felt even more heavenly than Jessica’s naked flesh against her own.

“I want more, Jess,” Trish breathed, seeing how Jessica was shuddering, already close to orgasm. It just needed to hurt a little more and then she’d climax. “I want your ass.”

Jessica was too far gone to gainsay her. “Yes, mistress,” she moaned, pulling herself up off Trish’s strap-on and repositioning herself. The dildo aimed between her buttocks. “Take it out of me, Trish. Then fuck me. Not the buttplug. You!”

Trish smiled so hard she glowed. She couldn’t believe that bitchy, short-tempered Jessica Jones could be such a submissive, begging and pleading on verbal bended knee. She reached over to the buttplug, pried up the ring that was built into the base, and tugged on it so the plug was dragged out of Jessica’s weakly clutching anus. Leaving the hole splayed open, just waiting for Trish to take possession. 

The only thing spoiling the effect of Jessica presenting herself to be fucked in the ass was the lustful quiver that went through her. That made it clear that Jessica wasn’t just inviting Trish to sodomize her. She was begging for it.

Trish touched her forefinger to the small of Jessica’s back and drew the pad of her finger down Jessica’s spine, that little stroke commanding Jessica to lower herself down. She did, her asshole stretching easily—if not painlessly—around the dildo until it was sunk into her rectum. Jessica didn’t moan with this impalement. No, this time she gurgled in abject ecstasy—reaching between her legs to finger herself as she was sodomized.

Trish chuckled to herself, permitting the subversiveness. Even in the middle of delivering her ass to Trish’s cock, her hot little filly managed to be willful. If Jess wasn’t, how much fun could it really be?

“You gonna ride my cock?” Trish cooed mockingly, seeing the heat rise in Jessica, a flush going down the back of Jessica’s neck. “Does your ass need my big hard dick for you to get off? Ride it, Jess. Fucking ruin that ass on my strap! That old buttplug better not be able to fit when we’re done. Oh no, I wanna buy a new plug for your ass after it’s permanently opened up by my prick! With a nice big fake diamond in the middle of it! And when people ask you why you’re called Jewel, you can drop your pants and bend over and fucking show them!”

Jessica gibbered in mad enjoyment, bouncing up and down, fucking her ass on Trish’s strap-on and rubbing her hand between her thighs. She felt like nothing more and nothing less than Trish’s bitch, having free will only so she could be a better slave for her mistress, her body only existing to be wrapped around the cock Trish had buried in her asshole. 

Then, it was like she’d said the magic words—thinking of how beholden she was to Trish, how Trish owned her, Trish took care of her in every way a person could be cared for. A gigantic feeling of warmth surged through Jessica’s body. It was an orgasm, but so utterly unlike anything Jessica had felt masturbating or in past sexual encounters that she felt silly—lightheaded—referring to it like that. It was some magic trick that could explode over and over again; no sooner would one climax subside than another had Jessica in its grip. 

Jessica’s flesh was racked with incredible bursts of sensations which seemed to spread to Trish as well. Her mistress crushed Jessica in her embrace, grinding her strap-on into Jessica’s spasming anus, biting into Jessica’s shoulder like a vampire. Jessica’s nectar ran in torrents down her body and onto Trish’s. Trish held her tightly, rocking her strap-on inside Jessica’s ass, stroking her cleavage, absorbing the feeling of how her heart was slamming inside her chest.

“You own my ass,” Jessica moaned, completing her rapture, the words lubricating her way into a perfectly contented afterglow. “It’s yours, my ass is yours. I belong to you. I belong to your cock. I’ll always be your cocksleeve, your fuckhole, your anal slut. Use me. Use me. Let me be yours.”

Unknown to the two women entwined behind the desk, there was a voyeur to go with their taboo. It was Dorothy Walker. 

A workhorse when she set her mind on something, she had waited outside Jessica’s building for hours until Trish showed up. Then she had followed her daughter up to Jessica’s room, intent on confronting her over her association with Jessica, as well as a litany of other quibbles she took with Trish’s life. She had never expected to catch them finishing their preparations for the game they’d made of humiliation and submission, Jessica making urgent pleas for Trish to fuck her and Trish apparently enjoying being a part of it all.

Dorothy had watched through the frosted glass and drawn shade of Jessica’s door. She knew what was happening. The two of them were so broken, so screwed up, so willfully impossible to live with that they’d ended up with the only people who would take them: each other. Substituting a dildo for a real relationship, but to an extent Dorothy wouldn’t have imagined possible.  

Dorothy listened to the squish of the dildo inside Jessica’s body and their frantic words as they bargained on the sexual submission taking place. She didn’t know if it was Jessica being a pervert and somehow drawing Trish into it—it didn’t seem like Jessica to tempt Trish into dominating her and punishing her this way—or if it was Trish who wanted this and she’d managed for once to enact a measure of control over Jessica—but then, she knew Trish wasn’t a bad apple like Jessica was. 

What she didn’t know was how any of this was possible… how it could even be that Jessica had been telling the truth about that buttplug in her ass belonging to Trish, and Trish enjoying performing the sick acts that Jessica bragged about enjoying, and how it could be that the two women she’d known as having some modicum of sanity could possibly be doing this?

Unable to fit all that she’d seen together in her mind, let alone all that was continuing to happen the longer she spent spying on the two women, Dorothy walked away. Jessica and Trish never even knew she was there.